Ignorance is Bliss
by muffiny doom
Summary: She was hardly ignorant about her intuitions. She was always right. But when Hermoine develops an unhealthy infatuation for the last person she'd expect, what is the truth anymore? One-sided ?  romance. Oneshot for now. T just to be safe. HP is not mine!


A/N: Ollo!

Soooooo I have no idea where this came from, haha. I actually sat down to write a Megamind story, and this happened somehow. O_e This isn't even my main Potter pairing (which is Neville/Luna). This somehow (I guess) became my brainchild after realizing just how much Neville has changed and grown since Philosopher's Stone. I just love him. ^^

WARNINGZ: contains SPOILERZ, CUHH!

So this is pretty much just a one-sided(?) Neville/Hermoine, I don't think I'm going to continue it, I have a few ideas though, if continuation comes in high demand (which I doubt, this isn't a great story, I wasn't focused).

P.S., if I get any of my facts wrong, it's because I wrote this at 1 am. Don't sue me, please. ^^'''

Flames welcome. Just don't be a d-bag. Thanks, ya'll

-Zimmy

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><p>Hermoine Granger was a very observant young witch. She often saw things that others did not, which made her a valuable asset to keep along in Harry's adventures to defeat the Dark Lord. This was a trait that also made her a remarkable friend. She saw the best in people, and could point out a potential threat without needing a second opinion. She was always right… when she wanted to be. There were certain cases where she remained ignorant, and that was something that she couldn't stand to be. Hermoine, the brightest young witch in the Gryffindor house, had some intuitions that she preferred to ignore.<p>

The first instance this happened was upon meeting the conniving Slytherin, Draco Malfoy. At first glance, Hermoine saw an evil little blonde boy with nothing but bad intentions, a snob, and an unbelievably obnoxious jerk. And of course, he was. But upon second glance, the 10-year-old witch saw something more. Deep into those eyes of ice, there was something more. Hermoine saw unspeakable pain in the young boy's optics, pain from something that a mind could never erase; she saw a boy stricken with a horrible tragedy.

But she ignored that. After all, he had called her a filthy mudblood, a word, a nasty label, that she could never pry away from her self-description when she looked at herself in the mirror. She refused to believe that there would be anything more to Malfoy than the sadistic wizard.

It was when Hermoine, Harry, and Ron discovered that Draco had been forced into the Death Eater lifestyle, which he wanted no part of except to honor his father and to stay alive, that Hermoine realized she had been in the wrong. It was something that tugged at her heart, that she had ignored her own curiosity, and often wondered how things would have been different if she explored this more. Hermoine had strong belief she could have helped in some way, and she resented that. Maybe Dumbledore would have still been alive.

She had learned her lesson, to go with what her gut told her, because she was usually always right. And God, did she take pride in being right about things… It was what fueled her to get through the day, constantly correcting Harry's and (mainly) Ron's mistakes. No matter how annoyed she got with the boys, Hermoine always enjoyed the stupidity feeding her slight ego. Hermoine was ALWAYS right, and she wasn't going to let emotions get in the way of the truth ever again. Until he crossed her mind.

She found herself staring at him one day, not realizing how long she had been doing so. It wasn't long after the war had ended, she, Harry, Ron, and a few others met up at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade for some butterbeer and a celebration. All of the friends had spent the last few months grieving over the deaths of the many who died in the past year, and it was time to get back to usual business, but never forgetting those they loved. Harry and Ginny held hands under the table, still getting used to the idea of their relationship; Neville and Luna were having a conversation about Luna's frequent trouble with "nargles" taking her shoes, as Neville listened intently, not sure as to when their conversation lead to the creatures; Ron and Seamus were arguing about quidditch teams, Seamus whooping for the Kenmare Kestrels, and Ron for the Chudley Cannons, when Cho chimed in with her passion for the Tutshill Tornadoes. A few other of their friends were among the table, but she was much too focused on the young man to put names to faces. So there Hermoine sat, gingerly sipping on her butterbeer, not completely aware of her consistent gaze. He simply nodded and chuckled as he conversed.

There, he did it again. That smile, a smile that was positively delightful, the image radiating warmth on her cheeks. And those eyes, those deep brown eyes she could become drowned in… Those eyes, looking straight into hers. … Oh dear God…

"H-hey, Hermoine," he began with a stutter. (You'd think killing Nagini and standing up to Voldemort would raise the boy's self-esteem.)

Hermoine's eyes widened and her face grew even hotter as she was snapped out of her hypnosis.

"You've got a bit of…" he gestured to his lip as he stared at her own, "… butterbeer… on your—"

"Oh!" she cut him off, embarrassedly. She quickly wiped her face onto her sleeve, looking everywhere but at him. 'Smooth, 'Moine, really quite elegant of you…' she thought. When she did finally glance his way again, she detected a faint, friendly smile appearing on his features, which caused Hermoine to return it, in the secrecy of her sleeve. He truly was a great friend. And she needed to keep it that way.

The boy then returned to his conversation, the auburn-headed girl lowering her arm to reveal her private moment of melancholy. She experienced these momentary pangs of sadness, even sometimes despair, whenever he looked away from her. She simply couldn't explain why something so microscopically simple would affect her so harshly. Hermoine found herself drawn to him when he was near, and he was on her mind when he was nowhere to be found. The past two years she had found herself willingly helping him with his schoolwork (he had trouble with potions and transfigurations, as had been the case since day 1 at Hogwart's), and had prepared him for his O.W.L.'s. Hermoine simply enjoyed his company. She enjoyed everything she knew about him, which still was not a lot. But that was the point. She only wanted to be in his presence, and enjoy what he was in that moment, enjoy his personality, his voice, his smile, his quirky jokes, his innocent nature. Hermoine didn't want anything else from her time with the object of her admiration. She did not long to know his most intimate secrets (like his gret-uncle Algie dropping him out a window as an infant to test if he was a Squib), the details of his tragedy ('His poor parents…'), and she didn't care to know his favorite color (which was blue). The plan was simply to admire him from a distance, and relish in the special friendship they had, whether he realized how special it was or not. However, not all things go according to plan.

From first day she met him on the Hogwart's Express, it was obvious that he was flawed. He was clumsy, a walking disaster, forgetful, and he seemed incapable of doing anything correctly. He was everything that Hermoine wanted to avoid. She was much more uptight back then, especially about school, and she would avoid him at all costs. He would always somehow get into another mess, however, getting her and her two companions involved. She didn't hate him, and she would be kind to him, shortly after meeting him finding out about his parents in St. Mungo's, but he had always bothered her a bit. Okay, more than a bit.

Years passed, battles were fought, and by 5th year, he was not so much the chubby, unlucky boy he once was. He had grown tall and thin, and was improving in his magic capabilities. Of course he was always a bit behind, and still very accident-prone, a lot had changed in him. Hermoine would look into his eyes, and they'd seem more hard and cold than they had been previously. He was hurting. She first noticed this when Dumbledore's Army was formed. She'd learned more about his parents; they were aurors, both members of the Order of the Phoenix, and were tortured by the Lestrange's into madness. This was what Hermoine thought to be the knowledge that created the obsession it came to be. She was very sad for him; she decided that she was going to be there for him, because she couldn't stand to see the normally cheery Gryffindor aching the way he was. And so they would venture to Hogsmeade village by themselves, and would buy candy from the sweetshop, and walk around the trails, bantering about school or D.A., making each other giggle endlessly. Hermoine found her time with him as somewhat of an escape from the hectic life that came with being a part of her trio, and saving the world. The boy she couldn't stand had become her sanctuary.

Hermoine had watched him grow up. She liked to think that she had been one of the ones to help him. She encouraged him stand up for himself when Draco and the other Slytherins picked on him, and because of that, his insecurity relinquished, and he defied the Dark Lord and destroyed the final Horcrux. He was a hero; that was all the more reason to admire him. And she hated that.

It was supposed to be simple. A dear friendship, with mutual and heartfelt respect. Not best friends, not completing each other's sentences, not confusing feelings.

Hermoine liked him just the way he was before she got to know him so well. He was perfect. Maybe not perfect, he definitely had his flaws, which was enough to keep Hermoine from developing romantic feelings for him, and he had enough lovable qualities to build a meaningful, stable companionship. She didn't want a thing to change, because it was what she needed at the time. She was having strange new feelings for Ron and she certainly didn't want to be any more confused, and in a time of war, at that.

Time was moving forward while Hermoine was still dwelling in the past. And as the minutes went by, day by day, she was learning more about him, remarkable things, that left her even more infatuated with him than the day before. And so all these flaws that Hermoine had known all these years were fading into the background. She even found she enjoyed some of them, such as his clumsiness, which she found, to say the least, very cute. And the fact that he was still a bit unsure with himself when talking to girls. He had become much more over Hermoine's years at Hogwart's than "almost a Squib". He was now a brave, powerful wizard, that had a strong will and a kind heart. And each day he never ceased to amaze Hermoine, even if it was simply making her grin in a time of doubt. Sometimes she felt foolish to not try to get to know him better from fear of ruining the portrait of the perfect friend… the perfect man. Sometimes she wondered if she had made the right choice to be so ignorant towards her developing feelings…

"Oi, 'Moine, give your boyfriend a kiss, eh?"

… but that was all just her stupid emotions keeping her from the truth.

Hermoine kissed Ron on the cheek, almost hoping that _he_ would be staring at them in anguish and jealousy. When she returned to front, she saw that he was still wrapped up in his conversation.

And she died a little.

Hermoine was in love with Ron, she had been for quite a while without realizing it. Ron was a great man as well, and that was the truth. He would always be there for her, protecting her, loving her, and keeping her happy (even though they fought so frequently). Ron was a good match for her.

But there would always be the thought of the one who grew more perfect every day. Hermoine would always think of him, and admire him from afar, as she enjoyed being on Ron Weasely's arm.

Ignorance was bliss. She wanted Ron to be happy, and she would keep him happy and be in love with him, unconditionally. And she would maintain her friendship with _him _as well, knowing that he would always be grateful to be a part of her life. They would share more moments, that to everyone would seem like small glances between friend's, to Hermoine it would be eternities of thought, one second of a forgotten lifetime she could have had, and would never forget. She would secretly spend forever with him, in her mind, and he would unknowingly kiss her dreams with bliss and internal dread.

But all that was just silly. A silly, childish dream, keeping Hermoine from the truth. And she knew that if this ignorance continued, she would never know what the truth was.

For now, Hermoine would sit with Ronald's arm around her, as she sipped her sweet beverage, gazing at him from the corners of her eyes. And Neville Longbottom would never know the truth. Not if Hermoine Granger could help it. He would never know that he was the flawless portrait of a perfect life.


End file.
